A Hilly Billy Thanksgiving
It had been four years since I made the seven hour drive northwest to Worsley, Alberta, where my mother is from, so when I found out that my sister and her family were heading up for Thanksgiving, I thought it was a good opportunity for The Spaniard and I to tag along. Thankfully my friend Shelly had given me the heads up that Crooked Creek was a must stop on the way towards Grande Prairie. Their legendary donuts, cinnamon buns, and freshly baked buns were enough to put a smile on The Spaniard’s face and make the marathon drive a little easier. When we arrived we were welcomed by a family of snowmen; while the farmers weren’t happy with the dusting of snow, it appeared my niece and nephew were rather excited. When my uncle Ernie past away a few years back, my mom inherited the log cabin that he built. I love that a photo of me at the Worsley Pioneer Days flanked by my uncle Ernie on the right – and my uncle Bobby …
